


Haven't You Taken Enough From Me?

by Sad_Not_Angry



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Blurryface, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Suicide mention, Top - Freeform, josh dun - Freeform, joshler - Freeform, there will be smut later, this is really just me venting, twenty one pilots - Freeform, tyler joseph - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sad_Not_Angry/pseuds/Sad_Not_Angry
Summary: Budding into adulthood is nothing like the TV shows. Tyler is 20 years old and still lives with his parents due to his deteriorating mental health, and rarely leaves his room. While on a walk and old friend, Josh, stops and attempts to rekindle the friendship between he and Tyler. Josh is taken by surprise by the new ways that Tyler has begun to act, and is curious to learn why and how to help his old friend.This will be a slow burn fic and yes there will be sex by the end.TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide, Self Harm, Childhood Trauma, Abusive Households, Mental Illness





	1. Chapter 1

I look at the clock for the fourth time in two minutes. It reads 5:56am. I have not slept at all tonight, my body feeling murky, bubbly brown. The sun has just started to appear in the sky, causing the deep navy shadow of a sky to mold into a pastel blue with streaks of yellow, clouds covering half of the sun. The weather these days has been matching my mood. It is overcast and rainy, early into the spring. Things are budding and growing outside but I can’t seem to shake the winter feelings of death, a dirty isolated kind. I try to shake the snow from my brain as I get up.

I live with my parents, upstairs. I have my own room and bathroom. I feel ashamed of my current state of living because I am nearly 21 years old and I am struggling to keep a part time job. My parents really don’t mind having me, I know that for sure. They would much rather have me here, at home, then out on my own. That is because I am suffering greatly mentally. I have… Problems that I cannot comprehend. They started at the end of high school. I became anxious, panicked. I started staying home from school frequently because I would get anxiety attacks. Being around the other kids filled my head with a chaotic fear that I could not think or function over. 

Then the delusions began. I stopped eating, drinking water, showering, brushing my teeth. I do not feel I need to do those things. I do not feel human, or that I have human needs. I never sleep, but that’s because of the nightmares. They come in waves throughout the night, causing me to clench my jaw so tight I have broken a few teeth. My brain finds twisted ways to wake me during the night. Making me think of breaking bones, car crashes, what it would be like to have your organs harvested while you’re alive, how it would feel to drink hot grease and burn from the inside out. Sometimes I even dream about things from my childhood that my brain has blocked out previously. I remember most of my childhood from stories people have told me or memories that come back in dreams. I would rather just forget I was ever a child.

The hallucinations began next. At first, it wasn’t a big deal. Sparks in the side of my vision occasionally. But it got worse. Dark spots began erupting in my vision, moving patterns trace their way across everything, shadow people in the corners of my room. I would hear distant conversations, muffled screams, and singing. Sometimes it would feel like someone is gently touching me, sometimes it would feel like my throat is caving in on itself. 

And Blurry. Blurry is by far the worst of all of the regular hallucinations. He is a combination of audio and tactile hallucinations. He speaks to me in my head and scratches, hits, and chokes me. The chaos he brings into my mind knows no ends. 

I stopped going to school or church because I would have anxiety attacks or psychotic breakdowns. People at church prayed for me to get better, but it’s been a few years and I think they’ve given up on me. I go to Easter and Christmas services, but the sterile feeling that stuffs up my nose and presses on my temples overwhelms me. Not to mention how Blurry feels about church. Once psychosis set in fully, I became moody and suicidal, depressed, agitated, quiet. I rarely leave my room. I have no friends. There is nothing on this planet for me. 

 

I feel ugly today as I put on yesterday’s clothes and walk into my bathroom. I look ugly, too. I grab my phone, headphones, and backpack and I head downstairs. I leave a note on the counter that says I am out for a walk, put on my shoes, and bolt before anyone has a chance to wake up and try to talk to me. I am quiet most of the time, and I hate making conversation with my family. I see it in their face, they look at me like I’m sick and dying. Like I’m wilting in front of them. Maybe I am. Mom says I used to have so many friends, a girlfriend. I used to play sports. I used to sing in church. I used to truly be alive. She asks me where her son went. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I just want to be alone.  
I contemplate all of these things as I make my way to the park a couple miles away from my house. There are many parks I could go to that are on the route, but they are sub-par. This park is nestled in the tree line of the forest and rarely anyone is there. It’s a long walk, but I don’t mind the exercise. I love it when I feel burning in my muscles. I avoid walking on main roads as I go. I hate it when the cars drive by. It feels like they’re staring at me. Bright yellow pin pricks fill my chest long after the cars pass. 

When I get there, the park is desolate. Just the way I like it. I sit on the swings and listen to music while fishing a pack of cigarettes out of my backpack. It’s a terrible habit I picked up after I lost all of my friends. Mom and dad don’t know. I light up and drop my backpack aside, swinging. I try to go as high as possible and pretend I’m flying. I close my eyes and it feels serene, a milky bubble of yellow filling my chest as wind hits my face and I lift out of the seat a little with momentum. 

I spend about a half an hour at the park, then I decide it’s time for some caffeine to keep me running. I walk to the closest coffee shop I can find and order a large cup of black coffee with room for two cream and two sugar. The woman hurries with my coffee and I am soon sitting down and scrolling through my phone and sipping my hot coffee. It’s starting to drizzle outside. I sit in the coffee shop for a solid 20 minutes before I start twitching with anxiety and have to leave before I cause a scene.

I go to walk by the river, passing a skate park along the way. There are a few people there, ranging in age. There’s a group of boys my age and I stare at them for a moment before I recognize them from my church. The recognize me, too, and they start heading over. Burning red and spiky yellow run throughout my organs, they feel like they’re shutting down. I can’t breathe. They wave at me and I just stare at them until they’re next to me. 

The conversation is awkward and most of the time I am silent. I just try my best to smile and nod at whatever they’re talking about. They let me go when they realize I won’t allow the conversation to go anywhere. I begin to walk away when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Josh has strayed from the group. “Hey, Tyler,” he says between breaths. He must have run after me. I look at him. “I just wanted you to know that um, if you ever need someone to talk to,” I want to cut him off. I’ve heard this a million times before. Talking wont help me. Nothing can help me. But I let him continue, “I’m here for you, dude. Seriously, I used to love hanging out with you and I’d still like to.” 

I blink. I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or not. “Okay,” I say flatly. He looks around, then back at me, “Can I have your number so we can set something up?” 

Before I really think about it, I give him my number just to make him go away. The phone number won’t do much. I refuse to answer calls. I take days to reply to texts. Sometimes I just never reply. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I decide to go home as quickly as possible so I don’t have to risk another encounter with someone I know. I chug my coffee too quickly and am a little buzzed on caffeine when I reach home again. 

Mom is making coffee in the kitchen, she asks if I want any. I say yes even though I can feel the coffee I already drank burning my stomach a little. I try to make conversation with mom every day. If I don’t, she gets sad. I don’t want to make anyone sad. 

“I saw Josh at the skate park this morning,” I say.

“What’s he doing out there so early?” She asks.

I just shrug and sip my black coffee, too nervous to ask mom for milk or sugar. A moment of silence goes by before I pick the conversation back up, feeling uneasy about telling her, “Josh wants to hang out sometime, I gave him my number.”

I instantly regret it when my mom is all pride and smiles. I haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house and coffee shop workers for months. “Oh, Tyler that’s great! You should go out and do something with him, it’ll be good for you!”  
I shrug again, much more flustered this time, “I dunno, I’ll think about it I guess.”

The conversation goes stale, and I start to feel stale too. I go up to my room and lay down on my bed in all my clothes. I don’t have the energy to take them off. I put in my headphones once more and lay with my eyes closed. I daydream and listen to music for about two hours, though it feels like twenty minutes. Mom eventually calls me down for an early lunch. She fills my plate as much as possible. I pick a minimal amount of food off of it, as usual. This upsets her and she has another breakdown, leaving the table. This upsets dad, who hits me. I wait until they both leave the room to react. 

I rest my head down on the table and shake. I don’t cry, I stopped being able to do that. I don’t know why I can’t, it hurts to not cry. Everything is bottled up and fighting to get out and you want it out, but it’s stuck. I’m stuck. I usually eat more than today, yes, but I am feeling especially low on energy. It is so hard to fake things for everyone. I’m so tired.  
After a while of shaking alone at the table, I go up to my room and lock myself in. I don’t come out for a day and a half. Blurry is with me the whole time.

I end up losing my job because I didn’t show up and I didn’t call in. Dad let me know that through the door. I ended up losing it a little. I don’t really remember hurting myself. I just woke up and cuts were everywhere. My arms and thighs ache as I roll over, standing up from my bed. There is blood on the carpet. Blood on the sheets. A few pages of writing are on the bed. My phone dings and I look at it. 

A message from Josh. Asking if I’m okay.

I look at the conversation window and I am filled with dread. In my psychotic state, I had messaged Josh. It started out with him texting me, telling me it was him. I told him I was bleeding. He asked if I was okay. The rest is nonsense to anyone sane. I told him Blurry was speaking softly to me. I told him I wanted a gun so I could kill myself. I told him I was going to try to kill myself. He asked me not to, asked me if I wanted to meet up, asked me if I wanted to talk on the phone. I told him to leave me alone over and over and over again, and he said okay. The conversation ended until he messaged me just now.

I am. Embarrassed.

I want to die. I should just destroy my phone, I think. I should message him and say sorry. I should go find him and kill myself in front of him. I begin to tremble and I rub my face. Josh is going to tell everyone that I’m completely losing it. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. 

I text him after thinking for a moment. “Hey, sorry, my brother got my phone while I was asleep.”

I hope Josh doesn’t remember that I don’t have a brother. 

“Oh, that’s okay! I was worried. What’s up?”

Good. I’m in the clear for now.


	2. Chapter 2

When I finally leave my room, my mother shoves me into the bathroom. She says it’s time for me to shower, now. It’s not that I hate showers, I just forget that I need to take them. I’m busy thinking about other things, doing other things, listening to other things. I wash myself quickly, wanting to leave the shower as soon as possible. I trot in my towel back to my room and put on clean clothes. It’s amazing how much better you feel when you’re clean.

Mom calls my name and I go downstairs. She’s prepared food for me. I eat it for her, maybe too quickly. It makes me feel sick. I tell mom I’m going for a walk and hurry upstairs to my room to get ready. I put on my jacket and left shoe before abruptly leaning to the trash can next to my desk and vomiting. I carry on getting ready, right shoe and a beanie. I tie off the trash bag and take it with me to the bathroom, where I rinse with mouthwash, then downstairs. I pick up my phone, wallet, and backpack. I keep the trash bag in hand as I leave the house, tossing it in the big trash can at the end of the driveway as I walk by. 

I am on my way to the park again. This time I decide to avoid the skate park. It’s been a day and I still haven’t messaged Josh back. I always do that. I get too scared to message people back, so I read the text and ignore it forever. 

Well, it’s not that I’m scared. I just can’t get myself to do it. I can’t do anything. 

At the park, I am alone for the first few minutes. Then a family pulls up in their minivan and I bolt into the forest so they can’t try to talk to me. I’m convinced I saw the mom sneer at me. I walk frantically for a minute, but as soon as the trees cover me I calm my pace. It was quiet for a while, I was alone. But I slowly began to hear Blurry’s deep, distorted voice over my music.

I stop walking and shake my head to try to get his voice to leave. It doesn’t. I squeeze my eyes shut and let a tremor run through my whole body. “Go away, Blurry,” I say out loud. I should have taken my meds today. And yesterday. And the day before that. 

“No.”

“Please, just leave me alone.”

He touches my shoulder and I jump, then get upset. He continues talking about my mom and dad. He loves to talk about my parents. I cover my ears and tell him to leave my head. He doesn’t. I should call mom, ask her to come get me. I can’t be out here if I’m going to lose it. I try to read the text on my phone, but the letters are warped and staticy. 

I’m shaking with fear as I try to find a place to hunker down and wait it out. Time begins to slow, dragging across my body like thick honey. I sit behind a particularly large tree and squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for the worst of it to be over. 

[Josh POV]

It’s been a few days since I saw Tyler and I’m beginning to get worried. He sent me some cryptic and then not-so-cryptic messages, then blamed thm on his brother. He doesn’t have a brother. I didn’t push the subject because it’s obvious Tyler has enough stress in his life. He stopped responding to my messages three days ago. 

I decide to try again today, who cares if I’m being annoying? Not me. I wonder if Tyler is scared of me. 

To my surprise, I get a response. A simple, “Hi.” He completely ignores my other messages. Oh, well. I ask him what he’s up to today. Nothing. I ask him if he wants to hang out finally. He says maybe. I push him a little more and he finally breaks, saying we can meet up for coffee in an hour. 

Coffee isn’t really my thing. I like working out, playing sports, boarding. I like doing stuff when I hang out with people. But, I can make an exception for Tyler since we used to be so close and I haven’t seen him in so long. The hour passes by quickly as I get ready and drive over to the coffee shop.

When I get there, Tyler is sitting quietly in a corner with his headphones in, scrolling through his phone. I decide to order before I sit down. Tyler jumps when I sit down at the table, then takes out his headphones and makes a facial expression that I’m pretty sure is a smile. His eyes look so stressed, but his mouth is curled up, “Hi, Josh,” he says. He avoids eye contact.

I make sure he can hear the smile in my voice when I greet him. The barista brings me my coffee, Tyler already has one. We’re all set. 

Now, I knew Tyler was different than he used to be from interacting with him the other day. And because of the way he ignores my texts. But I didn’t expect him to change so drastically. His face has this look of discomfort and confusion on it, like he’s feeling something he doesn’t quite understand. He twitches a lot and gets quiet, zoning out for a few seconds. Sometimes even minutes. 

He also has some scratches and cuts on his face and hands. I can’t see much other skin because he’s covered almost completely in clothes, but I worry there’s more. I want to ask where they came from, but I mind my own business. I wonder, though.

It seems like he is struggling to keep conversation, so I suggest we go for a walk. He seems relieved when we leave the coffee shop. It’s cold and cloudy out, I like this weather. I decide to keep quiet to give Tyler a break from socializing for a minute. I let him lead the way and we end up in a field, where we sit. We both continue sipping on our coffees.

It begin to drizzle, and I look to Tyler to see if he wants to leave. I catch him staring at me, he looks away quickly. “Wanna go back to our cars? I don’t want to stay out if the rain is going to get worse.” I ask him. He looks around. 

“I don’t drive. I walked here.”

“Let me drive you home, I don’t want you walking home in this.”

Tyler looks at his lap, “You don’t have to.”

I smile, “I know.”

[TYLER POV]

The walk to Josh’s car is quiet, and the drive home seems to be quieter. It makes me uncomfortable. I have to give him directions and I forget to tell him to turn a few times. I feel stupid. I know Josh noticed the cuts that Blurry left on me, and I’m glad he chose not to ask about them. 

When we get to my house, I ask him to come inside. I know mom wants to see him. When she does see him, she practically bursts into tears. “Josh! It’s been so long! How are you, sweetie?” She’s all over him. Mom gets quiet because she thinks if she whispers I can’t hear her from five feet away.

“Thank you so much for meeting up with Tyler. I think he’s lonely these days.”

That makes me mad and I quietly walk up the stairs to my room, leaving them to talk about me all they want. I just don’t want to hear it. Josh joins me a few minutes later, sitting next to me on my bed. “Your mom is as sweet as ever,” he says.

“She’s nuts sometimes,” I mutter quietly. 

“She cares a lot about you,” Josh says with a hopeful tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t even know me,” I say softly. Josh quiets down when he hears that. 

We sit in silence until he speaks again, “Tyler, I don’t mean to be nosy, but did something happen?”

It’s that feeling again. Shame, embarrassment, rage, sadness. It fills me until I feel like I’m bursting at the seams. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” I say. And he does. His question repeats in my head, torturing me. Everyone knows I’ve changed. I can’t hide it. I can’t pretend to be normal.

I lay in bed and give up for a while, just closing my eyes and shaking. I wish I could go back to the way that I was. 

Mom comes in to ask about my time with Josh, but other that than, I am alone for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway thanks for reading chapter two. I want this to have at least like five chapters so stick around


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: in this chapter tyler gets beat up by his father

[TYLER POV]

Help me. Help. I try to say it out loud as I stare at the wall. My therapist is waiting for my response but I can’t seem to move or make words. I am frozen. When she figures out I am frozen again, she helps talk me out of it. It is a short process for her, but I can never talk myself out of it. I think it’s because I don’t take myself seriously enough. I trust my therapist to say the right things, to safely guide me out of my frozen headspace, but I’m just an idiot. I’m stupid. I can’t do anything right. 

As soon as I’m back, she repeats her question, “How do you feel about having a friend again?”

I shrug. She tells me to use my words. She’s trying to get me to talk more so our sessions are “more effective.” I inhale and speak, “I don’t know. I liked Josh when we were friends a couple of years ago, but that was early in high school. I’m different now. I think, I thi- I think,” I pause to get my head out of the loop it’s got itself stuck in, “I think I should tell him why I stopped being his friend and stopped showing up to school. He deserves to know he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

My therapist nods, “That could be good. How do you think Josh will react to your current diagnoses?”

“I don’t know.”

“Any ideas?”

“I hope he’ll be fine with it. I hope he won’t tell anyone.”

My therapist leans forward, “Why do you carry so much shame about it?”

“It’s not shame,” I start, then pause. Is it? “I don’t know. I feel guilty about it. I feel like I’m inconveniencing him by initiating a friendship then ruining it by being nuts.”

“You’re not ‘nuts,’ and you certainly won’t be responsible for ruining the friendship as long as you try your best to keep in contact with him. You’re a remarkably kind and understanding person, Tyler. Josh has no reason not to like you.”

“I’m boring. I never do anything. I don’t find pleasure in doing anything. I can’t have fun-” My therapist cuts off the negative talk by holding up a hand. I quiet down and listen to her preach about how I could make any friend I wanted because I’m just that fucking great. I get upset at her for being nice to me, something I do frequently. 

“You don’t even know how I act outside of therapy,” I spit defensively, “I’m worthless, all I do is sleep and upset my mom by being a schizo piece of shit. I make her cry all the time because I’m not getting better fast enough. I can’t even get myself to take my meds because I’m too lazy to do anything. I don’t do anything. I can’t do anything. I’m worthless.”

“Tyler,” she starts off with my name, “You’re an excellent lyricist! Your songs and poems are all beautifully written. You have a purpose in this life, and it’s no doubt linked to your creative abilities. You’re not worthless. As for your mother…” She pauses, “She’s just emotional-- watching you go through things like this isn’t easy for her.”

I erupt in a burst of rage, “She only cares about herself, she doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t have the right to cry about my head being messed up when she let dad do all the things that he did to me. She doesn’t care about me,” My hands are shaking and my breathing is getting lighter and quicker, the current emotions racking my small frame are intense and confusing. I continue, “She walked in on dad beating the life out of me in middle school and didn’t care, but when I tried to beat the life out of myself a week later she acted like it was some huge burden on her! Why is it different when I’m the cause of my pain?” Tears brim my eyes, but they don’t fall. My voice shakes, “If she loves me, why won’t she protect me?”

“Protect you from what, Tyler?”

I pause. I haven’t told her dad still hits me. In fact, I told her specifically that he doesn’t any more. I look down at my lap and put my face in my hands. “Dad still hurts me and mom never helps,” I whimper helplessly, “I just want her to make it stop.” Tears come for the first time in a while and I have to fight my brain to let them come. I just want a release. 

I sob out all the questions I have to the universe. Why does my dad still hit me? Why doesn’t mom stop him? Why don’t my parents love me? Why am I so alone? Why was I cursed to be this ill? Why can’t I take care of myself? Why can’t I have just one good day? Why won’t anyone hold me? Why does nobody show me the softness I crave? Why can’t I remember my childhood? What’s so bad that my brain made me forget? Why do I ruin everything? Do I deserve all of this suffering?

The session ends with many unanswered questions, mainly because my therapist had questions of her own. Questions about dad. She asks me some unnerving things. Where my father generally hurts me, what causes it, how he does it. Then she asks me if my father has ever sexually abused me. He hasn’t.

Mom always has a 5 minute meet up with my therapist after our session, so I sit in the office and wait. The woman at the desk keeps looking at me and I feel my palms getting sweaty. Do I have something on my face? Am I ugly? Why does she keep looking at me? I work up the courage to look back at her, and she’s an old friend of mine. Well, an old friend of Jenna’s. We make eye contact and for some reason I decide today’s a good day to assert myself. I stare back at her with my red, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She offers a weak smile and I remain cold and unfeeling as I look away from her. 

Jenna’s friends were the reason she gave up on me in the first place. They said I was too weird for her and that I was going to bring her down with me. I probably would have. Maybe they’re right. I stare at my shoes and think about how much I miss cuddling up next to someone. Not just my ex, but anyone. I don’t want Jenna back, I want someone new. Someone who thinks for him or herself, someone who doesn’t mind me being a bit weird, someone who doesn’t mind taking care of me when I can’t do it myself. I launch myself into a familiar daydream, one i frequent a lot. I’ve made up imaginary friends and when I close my eyes, it’s like I’m with them.

I think of my boyfriend I’ve made in my head. He’s tall, strong, and sweet. He’s gentle with me but tough with everyone else. He saves time just for me, and when we cuddle our bodies fit together just right. Mom pulls me from the sugary-sweet daydream and out to the car. I’m still in a daze, thinking of my perfect boy, when she asks, “What did you talk to your therapist about today?”

I look out my window as I reply, “Just the usual. Meds and mood and other head stuff.” I slump against the window and close my eyes, trying to recapture the warm fizzy feeling of having someone’s arms around me with my nose resting on their shoulder. Feeling his body heat against my cheeks and his hands on my back.

“Funny, ‘cause she told me that you told her that you’re in danger at home.” Mom says bitterly.

My eyes fly open, the fizz of imaginary love dying away as I whip my head around to look at her, “I didn’t say that!” Okay, maybe I did. I just didn’t phrase it like that.

Mom doesn’t say anything to me during the car ride home until I start hyperventilating and unbuckling my seatbelt to make it easier to jump out of the moving vehicle. Then she grabs me by the wrist and tells me to get it together. When we’re at home, she leaves me in the car. I feel like I can’t move. My heart won’t stop racing. I brace myself against the seat of the car and let my brain work out this panic attack. I oblige my brain in ever way, letting myself completely fall apart in the passenger seat of my mom’s minivan. I come in when my meltdown is over, making eye contact with a concerned neighbor as I walk inside. No doubt they saw me. 

Mom is nowhere to be seen, so I just hurry up to my room and collapse on my bed. I close my eyes and rest for a while, trying to think about everything that happened today. I then recall that I left Josh on read yesterday, so I message him really quick. He asks me immediately if I would like to hang out tonight. I fight the urge to say no, instead I settle on inviting him to my house. If I can’t be alone, I might as well be somewhere I’m most comfortable.

Josh comes over a little later that evening, we confine ourselves to my messy room. I put on music so there’s some sort of background noise. We talk for a good hour before he excuses himself to the bathroom. That’s when dad got home. 

He was later than usual, so I am suspicious that he’s drunk. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear him stumbling up the stairs to my room. I freeze, terrified of my father when he’s intoxicated. He bursts into my room and looks at me with hate in his eyes. “You,” he says, stumbling over to me and grabbing my by the arm, “What kind of bullshit are you spewing to that therapist of yours?”

I shake my head and try to pull away. “You lazy, ungrateful piece of shit, your mother and I give everything for you.” he slurs, “And how do you repay us? By staying in your room all the time?” Then he hits me across the face. I accept the slap quietly and stare at my socks. He jerks my head up by the hair and demands I look at him while he’s talking to me. I have seven different types of anxiety running through my veins like electric eels, smooth waves of electric shock wafting throughout my bloodstream. I simply cannot bear to look him in the eyes right now.

This upsets him.

Josh walks in while I’m on the ground with my dad on top of me. I know my lip is split and I think my nose is bleeding. I just lay there, unsure of what else I’m supposed to do. My dad is repeatedly punching me, but all of a sudden stops. I look, and Josh has pulled my father off of me and pinned him to the ground like I was.

I heard his quiet, steady voice leave his lips in the most menacing way, “Touch him again and you’re going to regret it.”

I want to cry as my father leaves my room and Josh safely locks us in. I just lay on the ground and try not to look like an idiot instead. It’s hard because I’m dizzy and dazed from getting punched, and I’m a bit fuzzy in my brain already from my head acting up. Josh makes his way over to me.

“Tyler…” He trails off. I can tell he has a million questions, but he doesn’t ask. He just sits next to me and pulls me into a sitting position on the ground. I feel blood drip from my nose and lips as I sit cross-legged on the ground. I figure I might as well explain what’s going on.

“That’s my dad. He gets mad at me a lot,” I say flatly, “He usually doesn’t bother with me this much, but I guess I made him especially mad today. Please don’t call the cops on him.” I feel ashamed. Embarrassed. I’m 20 years old, mentally ill, and still getting beat by my father. I tense up at the sudden thought of Josh leaving me alone tonight. My father might come back. I look at my friend and he is looking at me. 

“None of what just happened to you is okay at all,” he says, worry in his voice. For some reason I hadn’t really processed that part, that it wasn’t okay for your dad to beat you. I mean, I know it’s no fun and that I would rather it not happen… But I forgot it’s not actually supposed to happen. I guess after something happens for a long enough time, you just forget. I decide to shrug it off because if I speak I’m going to burst into tears.

The truth is it doesn’t feel fair. Life doesn’t feel fair. I am suffering greatly mentally because of some faulty wiring that gets passed down through the family, I lost all my friends and my goals because of it, and the beatings from my dad got more regular. My mind has practically confined me to my house, and nobody comes to visit any more. Nobody cares about me anymore. I’m alone. Everything is getting harder and harder to cope with. I feel like I’m suffocating on my own blood. I feel like I’m going to cough up my eardrums. I start to cry. I don’t want Josh to see, but I have no control over myself. I want to curl up on the ground and let this wave pass, but instead I am scooped up into Josh’s arms.

All of a sudden my cheek is resting on his shoulder and he’s rocking me. I am conflicted for a moment about whether or not I should allow this. Do I deserve this comfort? Do I deserve to be held right now? I end up deciding I just can’t resist indulging my lonely, lost, and confused brain. I let my body sink into his and I cry it out. He holds me and gets my blood all over his shirt the whole time. I’m so touch deprived after months of isolation that Josh rocking me makes me sleepy with comfort. My face is aching, but I ignore it as my eyelids grow heavy.

[JOSH POV]

I have absolutely no fucking clue what to do right now. How long has Tyler’s dad been hitting him? How often does it get as bad as it just did? Does Tyler need a safe place to stay? Does Tyler need me to stay over? Does he want me to hold him better, in my lap or something? I have so many question for him, but his body is finally relaxing in my arms so I keep quiet. I don’t want to disturb him. Instead, I let him fall asleep in my arms. I just sit there.

Tyler snaps awake about five minutes after falling asleep on me and looks around, obviously a bit confused. I let him gather his thoughts quietly and he looks at the clock. His voice is quiet and his cheeks are red as he apologizes for falling asleep on me. “It’s no biggie,” I say, “You weren’t out for that long anyway.” I pause, “Hey Ty, you want to stay at my house or something tonight?”

Tyler looks at the door and frowns, “Can’t leave. He’ll stop me.” I frown too, and I suggest I just sleep here tonight. Tyler looks thankful and he nods, already moving to crawl in his bed and get settled. I laugh as he rips off his pants and snuggles up under the covers.

“Where do you want me to sleep?” I ask.

Tyler motions to the bed beside him, “You can’t sleep on the couch, sorry. Dad’s downstairs.”

I shake my head, “I’d rather be up here anyway.” With that I slip off my pants and jacket and climb under the covers with him. I don’t touch him any more than I already have, I feel weird touching friends while under the covers together. It feels too intimate. I don’t fall asleep for a long time, thinking about the events I just witnessed. I was laying with my back to Tyler for about a half hour before he slowly and cautiously moves closer to me, pressing his forehead against my shoulders. 

I feel bad for Tyler. I feel like I need to protect him. I feel like I need to tell him how much he means to me. I don’t know what the emotion is that I’m feeling, but I know that I want to keep him safe. I feel Tyler nestle closer to me, and I wonder if he’s asleep. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to cuddle up to a friend easily, so I assume he is. I close my eyes and listen to his even breaths, eventually letting them consume my entire head. I notice when his breath catches in his throat and he starts to make soft noises in his sleep. I turn and lay on my back, tossing my head to the side to look at him. 

He looks stressed, so I reach over with one hand and run my fingers through his short hair a few times, then move my hands to smooth over the skin of his face. It seems to calm him down.

I end up staying up, making sure Tyler doesn’t have nightmares, for a few hours before drifting off myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joshler hinting


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> knock knock get the door its psychosis  
>  the next chapter is gonna have some joshler vibes in it, then im gonna start getting more into the romantic plot

[JOSH POV]

“Tyler,” I say to the lanky boy standing in the middle of his bedroom. He doesn’t respond. His face is bruised from last night and he looks so pitiful just standing there. I notice he’s changed the way he carried himself. He used to walk around with his head high and chest out, confident in himself. He now stands with his frail shoulders hunched forward slightly, head always down, arms held close to him as if he’s prepared to protect himself from anything trying to hurt him. I also notice he’s lost a lot of weight, he looks light as a feather. I bet I could pick him up easily.

He’s just staring at the corner of the room, moving his lips slightly. I walk toward him to hear what he’s saying. “Just leave me alone,” he’s repeating over and over again. I’m trying to figure out what that means, is he talking to me? I can never really tell who he’s talking to lately because he never looks at people when he’s talking to them. I repeat his name and touch his shoulder.

As soon as I touch him, his head snaps up and cocks to the side in a way that makes me kind of uncomfortable. He’s holding his hands up close to his chest protectively, and then this weird shiver kind of runs through his entire body. “I want to eat my legs,” he says abruptly. 

I blink at him, watching his eyes widen and his shoulders raise a little. He looks around, none of his movements are smooth, he jerks and twitches around. It’s like he’s having trouble controlling his body. I reach out and touch him again, this time on the bicep, “Tyler, pack a bag okay? You’re going to stay at my house for a few days.”

[TYLER POV]

Shit I, no um. He can’t… Wait-?

I look at Josh, his clothes are changing patterns, his face warping into something I’m afraid to see. Blurry asks how I’m liking the view he’s created. Everything is static in my ears, suffocating my thoughts. I try to form words to signal to Josh that I’ll pack a bag but I just end up making some weird noise at him. He looks so confused and concerned, and he’s rubbing my shoulder. His hand feels soft against my skin and I zone out for a minute just feeling it. His skin sends weird electric tracers throughout my body, making me twitch sometimes. I want to know what his hands feel like rubbing both of my arms at once. My chest. My whole body. I want the little zings to fill my organs and jumpstart me.

I try to step forward to Josh, but the room is spinning so I stumble inelegantly into Josh and say, “Josh I’m. Bag.” 

Josh carefully guides me to my bed any lays me down, “Tyler, buddy,” he starts off, “What’s going on?”

I try to communicate with my face that I truly do feel like I am going to die in the next five minutes, “I am bad.”

“How so?” He asks me.

“Head. Blurry. It’s like a kaleidoscope,” I point at the ceiling, where the patterns are swirling and shifting constantly. Josh looks at me, his face has been replaced with a big blur. I cannot make out any of his facial expressions, I just stare in wonder at the fact that his face is gone. “Josh you’re leaving,” I try to communicate what’s going on.

His hand is on my knee now, and I clue into the fact that I’m having a really bad episode right in front of him. I writhe uncomfortably on the bed, squirming and trying to get it to stop. “No,” I say to my head, “Please, I want to die.” I wish I had a gun so I could stop my brain from ever thinking again. I roll to my side and curl up into a tight little ball and tense up all of my muscles, holding my breath. 

I stay that way for as long as I can, then I relax. “Hey,” Josh’s voice has changed tone. It’s gentle, like a pastel pink baby’s blanket, as he speaks to me, “Tyler, tell me what’s wrong.”

I sit up and look at him. I can’t. He’ll never understand. He’ll leave if he knows. He’ll tell everyone I’m dangerous or some sort of freak. “I am just fine,” I try to be convincing but my voice lurches in pitch and I’m still not entirely in control of my facial expressions, “I just need.”

I thought I finished the sentence, but apparently I didn’t. Josh asks for clarity but I’m too upset to figure out how to speak. Blurry is rubbing the inside of my chest cavity, sharp claws leaving burning scratches. I try to breathe, but it hurts. I get this sinking hopeless feeling that comes sometimes, and I want my mom. I know she’s already at work, same with dad. Josh has some plan to have me stay with him. That’s not going to work. Not even my parents can handle me and they’re legally obligated to. I reach out and touch Josh’s face. 

I trace my hands around his face, and wherever I touch, the static clears up. I wipe away the blur and his face is back to normal. He’s just looking at me. I’m looking at him. I lean closer to him, hand still on his face.

[JOSH POV]

Tyler has been staring at me intensely and tracing his fingertips across my face for a few minutes now. I honestly cannot tell what’s going on in his head. Maybe his dad gave him a head injury? Maybe I should take him to the hospital? After a moment, his fingers freeze on my cheeks and Tyler looks me in the eyes. I’ve barely seen his eyes, he’s always looking down at the ground. They’re sunken and have deep purple bags under them. They don’t look vacant, just half occupied. Like half of him is there and the other half is just dark. 

After staring at me for what seems like a long time, Tyler leans in closer to my face. I figure whatever is about to happen can’t be any fucking weirder that what’s already happening, so I sit still and let him do what he wants. “I need a knife,” he says softly to me, face inches from mine. The way we’re positioned is intimate. Tyler’s knees are pressed into me, his hand resting on my cheek, his nose practically touching mine. It’s not the good kind of intimate though.

This type of intimacy makes me feel like I can’t breathe or look away. I’m entranced by Tyler Joseph and whatever is happening in his head right now. “I’m not getting you a knife,” I say back to him, my voice just as quiet as his, “You’re going to pack a bag and we’re going to my house.”

He pulls away from me, looking a little betrayed. “I want to be at home,” he says.

“It’s not safe here, Tyler. I can’t stand by while you’re getting beaten. It’s either stay with me or I call the cops.”

Tyler’s eyes widen with fear, “No policemen,” his voice is loud this time, and he stands up. I watch him gather random items from around the room and shove them into his backpack. He’s not in the right headspace though, he keeps packing things that he doesn’t even need. 

A water bottle from the trashcan, a box of tissues, pens. I stand and take his bag from him, he just stares at his empty hands like he’s never seen them before. I take over the packing, searching his drawers and closet and tossing in a couple changes of underwear, socks, and shirts. I look around his room for anything important. Phone charger, headphones, ect. I notice on the bedside table there’s three orange bottles of prescription medication. They’re all for Tyler Joseph, so I shove them in the bag. Not without reading them of course. The names mean nothing to me, and the only thing I can understand are the stickers saying not to drink, drive, or breastfeed while on the meds.

I turn to Tyler and he’s still just standing there, staring at his hands in awe. I walk over and help him put on his backpack, then I wrap my arm around his shoulder to guide him downstairs. I leave him on the couch to put on his shoes while I run back up to his bathroom to grab his toothbrush. When I come back down, Tyler is laying on the ground on his stomach, face turned to look under the couch. His shoes are not on. 

I help him back up, and then help him with his shoes. It’s like I’m taking care of a toddler. This isn’t the Tyler I knew, this is some new creature. Tyler is loud, charming, charismatic. Tyler plays sports and flirts with girls. Tyler’s laugh fills a whole room and when he’s smiling you can quite literally feel it from ten feet away. Tyler is gentle and compassionate. 

This new person is a hollow shell of a person. Confused and dazed, paranoid, and simply not all there. It’s so strange. Sometimes, when I talk to him it’s fine. I can’t even tell there’s something going on. Other times, like now, I am left to wonder if Tyler is even there any more. He just seems so vacant. He seems so gone. I’m concerned and I’m so fucking desperate to know more. I just want to know what happened to my friend.

Was it his dad?

.

[TYLER POV]

I stand quietly in the doorway to Josh’s room. I’ve been staying with him for a week now, and he plans on keeping me for longer. When we went back to my house to pick up some more clothes and a few personal items, dad tried to keep me away from Josh and make him leave me there alone. Josh wasn’t having it, and he’s much stronger than my dad so I got my stuff and left. Josh’s ‘house’ is actually an apartment in town that he used to share with a roommate, but the roommate moved away. I stay in the living room on the couch. I would stay in the spare room, but it’s empty.

I’ve been watching Josh sleep for the past few nights. He’s so good at it. He just lays down and within a few minutes he’s unconscious. I walk over to his bed quietly and move the covers to see his face. He doesn’t even drool when he sleeps. I do.

Blurry tells me to strangle Josh, but I know better. Josh has been nothing but nice to me. I will not hurt him. I will not hurt him. I will not hurt him.

I wonder what he’s dreaming about, or is he has dreams. I don’t have dreams, just night terrors. I lean close to Josh and smell his hair. I noticed the other day when I gave him a hug that his hair has a very distant but familiar smell. It reminds me of a very specific shade of green paired with a thick, squeezable texture. All of a sudden, Josh’s breathing changes and his eyes open.

I peer down at him from my leaning position, and he just stares back up at me. “Hi, Ty,” he says with a sleepy voice. I don’t want to talk, so I don’t. I just want to look at him and smell him. Josh continues after a moment’s pause, “Did you need something?” 

I look away, a little nervous about answering the question, “I just wanted to smell your hair,” I whisper to him. He nods with a confused look on his face and says something about his shampoo, then checks the clock.

“Ty, it’s 4:30 am, you have therapy in like four and a half hours. Have you slept?”

I let Josh know about my therapy appointments when I started staying with him because I feel like I will die or lose control of my life if I stop going. I shake my head no in response to his question. No sleep for me, I have just been laying on the couch listening to music the whole time. I wish I could sleep. I’m so tired I could die.

“Is it the couch? Do you want to sleep in here? I can sleep on the couch.” 

I shake my head again and squat next to him because I feel weird looming over him in the dark. “I can’t sleep anywhere,” I say to him. He sighs and pats my head, asking me if I want him to stay up with me. I shake my head and let him know that I simply wanted to smell his hair and I will be on my way now. I leave before he responds.

.

 

(authors note: the therapy session im about to write takes place a week later)  
“I’m never going home, I’m going to stay with Josh and he’s going to protect me. He said so.” Finally, I’ve found someone who will defend me. Josh yelled at my dad and stopped him from hitting me. I trust him. More than anyone.

My therapist nods, “Well, you can’t stay with him forever, Tyler. You can’t pay rent without a job.”

“I’ll get a job. I had one before,” I retaliate, determined to show her that this is a good idea. “Josh is nice to me and I like living with him. He lets me smell his hair when I want.”

“Smell his hair?”

“His shampoo,” I say, “I know I’ve smelled it before but I can’t remember where or why. It makes me feel green inside.”

“Very nice,” she seems uninterested in Josh’s scent, but sometimes it’s all I think about. I’ve been living with Josh for a week and when he’s gone at work, I press my face into his pillows and suffocate myself with the scent. I don’t know why I love it so much. My therapist snaps me out of my thoughts, “Are you sure you’re capable of a job right now?”

I nod enthusiastically. Probably just another minimal part time job, but if I give Josh money each month maybe I can stay there forever. I smile at the thought. I don’t know why I like being around Josh so much, or why my brain has decided that this is the person we are going to trust to keep us safe. I think I just really like being his friend. The session ends after I tell my therapist about how quiet Blurry has been since I started living with Josh, and some other dumb stuff. 

Josh is waiting outside in his car and drives me back home. I talk to him about how I might try to find a job again. Josh reacts positively and offers to help me job search so I can find the perfect job for me. My chest feels warm when I talk to him. I think it’s because I’m excited about my possible future of being out of the house, actually becoming an adult.

And I’m excited to do it with my best friend, Josh.


	5. Chapter 5

[JOSH POV]

God damn, Tyler Joseph is probably one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Sure, he has the dark days that scare me, but watching him go about life is absolutely hilarious. I don’t think he knows that how he acts is strange, or that the reactions to things he has aren’t appropriate. He has the worst time paying attention to anything happening around him. He walks into things a lot. Like just now, he slammed his shoulder into the doorframe and stumbled into the living room. 

He looks at the door frame in shock, “I want that removed,” he says, “It’s inconvenienced me.” I bust out laughing in response and he looks to me with a little glimmer in his eyes. He’s been making more silly remarks like that lately, daring to joke and smile around me finally. I wonder if he would ever joke and smile at home. It didn’t seem like it. 

He sits down on the couch next to me and fiddles with his hands for a moment, then leans into me and presses his nose to my scalp. He inhales and exhales softly, his warm breath hitting my cheek.

I have the biggest crush on Tyler Joseph. Lord help me. I have this ache in my chest for him every time I see him sad. Every time he gets a sad or stressed look on his face I have to stop myself from scooping him up into my arms and coddling him. I haven’t let Tyler know I have a crush on him for many reasons. He had a girlfriend in high school, I don’t even know if he dates boys. He just got out of an abusive household and probably wants some time to just be himself. He has a lot of stress in his life and I don’t want to add a relationship to the list of things he has to think about. 

I just keep quiet and let him bump his nose against my scalp. Tyler is kind of affectionate, in a weird way. The kind of affection that makes you wonder if he’s going to snap and kill you. He has a habit of watching me sleep from the doorway at night. I’ll frequently wake up and find him standing there, peering at me. He’ll leave if I tell him to, but he says he likes watching me better than he likes sleeping. 

Of course, there’s the hair smelling, one of his most common forms of affection. He also bites me gently on the shoulder sometimes. Usually just my shirt and usually very light, just scraping his teeth on me. I don’t really mind mouths, so I’m fine with it. I asked him why he did it one day and he said that his brain tells him to rip my flesh off, but I’m his friend so he won’t do that.

How sweet, I thought.

I sometimes catch him looking at my stuff in the living room. Again, I don’t really mind. He’ll just hold things of mine and stare at them for forever, then put it back down. He’s funny like that. 

After Tyler is done with my hair, he sits next to me. “Josh.”

“Yes?”

“You think I’m bad weird or good weird?”

“Good weird, for sure.” God, he’s so cute it melts my heart. I can’t handle it sometimes. He gives a tiny smile, then leans back to relax against the couch.

.

 

[TYLER POV]

I want to die. I want to die so much it hurts to move. I lay on the bathroom floor and stare at the toilet in silence. The fan is on and the lights are off, and I try to relax on the cold tile floor. Josh isn’t home right now and I don’t know when he will be. Time evades me. I close my eyes tight and think about him. Josh is my only friend, and that’s fine with me. He’s the nicest person I have ever met. 

My stomach begins to turn and strange images flash across my vision. Mostly bloody things, hands with fingers ripped off. People with their heads caved in. Broken legs. Then it’s just different ways hands could get mutilated and I swear I can feel it all, I swear I can. I watch my hands remain the same as I feel them get twisted and mangled, shaking and breathing lightly and quickly. 

I bend and unbend my fingers, trying to make them better. Nothings working. I stand up from the ground, my whole body is suicidally achey. When I move my skin screams, I feel like my organs are going to fall through my skin. I stumble to the kitchen and grab Josh’s toolkit. I was looking around in it one day when I found something very important. A container of razors for his box cutter. I take one and carefully place the toolbox back exactly where I found it.

I go back to the bathroom and drop to the floor, exhausted and in pain. I look at my hands, which are fine. They don’t feel fine. I take the razor and place a long cut through the center of my palm. My hand doesn’t feel any better, but at least it’s beginning to look like it feels. It’s always more comforting to have my skin match how it feels. Sometimes it feels like I have to poke tiny holes in it, so I take sewing needles and stab myself in the leg. Sometimes it feels like all my skin has to be off of my hand, like right now.

I cut down my fingers, then on the back of my hand. I place smaller, horizontal cuts along the back of my fingers. I look at my hand as the blood rises to the surface in little bubbles. It looks like I could pop them if I wanted to. I let my hand drip onto my pants and I contemplate doing it on the other hand. The ache of my newly ripped flesh has drowned out any thoughts of hand mutilation and I don’t really feel the urge to cut my other hand. 

I shove the razor in my jacket pocket, wait for a moment, then take the razor back out and begin cutting over the cuts that are already in my hand, unfeeling. I cut deeper to try to get a reaction out of myself. Anything. 

Nothing.

I scare myself sometimes. I’m capable of a scary amount of sadness. I have scary thoughts. The funny part is that most of the time I don’t know they’re abnormal and scary until my therapist says they are. I thought everyone had intrusive thoughts about torture and gore. I lean my head forward and bring it back hard to the wall, dazing myself for a moment.

“Hey,” says Blurry. I don’t know why he’s here, I’m already destroying myself. 

“Keep doing that,” he says, “With your head. Now, do it.”

Blurry likes me because I am so eager to please people. I do as he says, over and over until I feel like I’m going to pass out. I stop and let my eyes flutter closed.

“Tyler,” Blurry says my name. I hate it when he says my name. It makes me wish I had a different name. “Get up.” 

I get up and steady myself against the wall, dizzy. “Look at yourself in the mirror-- No bring your razor. Good. Cut open your cheeks.”

I place the razor against my cheekbone and drag it down toward my chin, opening up a large cut. It wasn’t deep. I don’t go deep unless I’m trying to kill myself. I cut my face until Blurry says we’re done. 

I find myself wishing this made me feel something. Shame, peace, fear. Anything. Instead, I feel nothing about the blood leaving my body. I hear the front door unlock and I stare at the doorway to the bathroom until I see Josh walk by. He doesn’t notice me until he walks by the second time. I wanted to close the door and at least clean up some of the blood before Josh saw, but I got so stressed thinking he would see me that I left my head.

I do that sometimes, just leave my body. Detach my soul from my physical being. It makes it easier when bad things happen, nothing feels like it’s really happening. It’s like a movie.

Once Josh sees me, he stares for a moment, then he walks into the bathroom quietly and touches my shoulder with one hand and grabs the razor out of my hand with the other. I am severely disoriented, not really processing anything that’s happening. I’m so anxious about him seeing me like this that my eyes unfocus and I fall forward a little. Josh says something but I don’t understand the words he’s using. 

I want to ask what’s happening, I want to ask if he’s ashamed of me, I want to ask if he’s mad. Instead, I breathe unevenly and clench the hem of my shirt in my fists. There are bright flashes of color across my vision, my anxiety is just making my psychosis worse. I gasp for air out of my closing windpipe and try not to look like I’m losing my mind. 

[JOSH POV]

Tyler has blood on his face and left hand, and he’s not answering any of my questions. I try to ask if he did this and if he’s okay. He’s just staring blankly at a wall while swaying dangerously. “Tyler, hey are you gonna pass out?” 

His face is pale. He kind of looks like he’s going to die. After a particularly sketchy lurch forward, I gather him into my arms and take him to my bed. I sit him down and look at him, “Tyler, are you there?”

He looks like he’s trying hard to look at me, but he never responds. Just sits there twisting his facial expression.  
I’ve seen him ‘absent’ a few times before and it worries me. Once he poured milk straight from the jug onto the ground in front of him instead of putting it into his coffee. There are times when it’s kind of funny, but then there are times like this. “How can I help?” I ask.

Tyler gives me a stoic look, “Kill me.”

I feel a little anxious as I sit on the bed next to him, “I can’t do that, but I can give you a really great hug if you want?” Tyler doesn’t respond, looking off into the distance with his mouth slightly open. His eyes look wild with anxiety. I touch his shoulder gently, then slide my hand across his back to the other shoulder and bring him in for a tight squeeze. 

To my surprise, Tyler is very receptive to touch. He sighs and his shoulders relax a little. “You want a real hug?” I ask him. I would very much like to lay down and hold him til this all blows over, but I don’t want to ask. Tyler gives a soft hum in response and I hope that means yes because I am so going for this hug. I hold him under my chin and rock him gently. Warm breath from Tyler’s mouth warms up a spot on my chest as we stay pressed up against each other. 

Tyler stays in my arms until I pull away a long time later, and he looks up at me with a look I can’t read. “I liked that,” he says. One thing I enjoy about Tyler is that he’s very blunt most of the time. At least with me. He’s honest about everything he’s thinking and feeling. I asked him why one day and he just shrugged and asked why he wouldn’t be. 

“Are you feeling better?”

I get a simple nod.

“Good,” I say, reaching over and touching his scabbed cheek. I want to kiss the cuts on his face, but I know it isn’t my place. My hand falls into my lap and I lower my voice, “Do you want to sleep in here tonight? With me? You don’t have to I just... If you don’t want to be alone.” 

I’m worried about his safety. In the living room, he has easy access to the kitchen. All my knives and other sharp objects are free range. Tyler shrugs, “I guess.”

I am happy that he agrees to stay the night with me, and it’s soon late enough to get settled. I hope Tyler won’t be too uncomfortable laying next to me all night. My bed is a full, so there’s plenty of room for Tyler. He’s small, just taller than me. He and I lay next to each other, listening to some sleep playlist Tyler has created. He says he can’t sleep when it’s quiet, he says the quiet makes him feel like he’s dying. 

I want him to be as comfortable as possible, so I let him play whatever he wants. 

I fall asleep before I even see Tyler rest his eyes. 

[TYLER POV]

Josh doesn’t touch me when he sleeps. Good. I hate it when I have to sleep with people most of the time, I hate it when I have nightmares in bed with them. I hate when they hear me cry in my sleep. I hate when their sleeping body presses onto me. 

Josh is comfortable to sleep with because he stays in the same position he falls asleep in all night long, I know this because I watch him. I like to look at him sleep, it makes me feel relaxed and warm inside. It’s kind of like I’m sleeping, too. I end up dozing off for a while, facing him. I don’t dream at all, I just feel warm the whole time. When I wake up about an hour later, I find I have curled myself up to Josh’s side in my sleep. 

Oh boy, I think. I hope he didn’t wake up while I was like that. I scoot away from him to the edge of the bed and turn on my side, staring at the wall instead of the sleeping boy behind me. It’s colder at the edge of the bed and my stupid lonely brain wants me to go back and cuddle up next to Josh. 

Sometimes I meet people and my head gets calm and my chest gets this weird ache and I want to be around them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel nothing for most other people. Sure, I can recognize if people are good and bad but having to ‘feel’ something for them is hard for me. I feel like a terrible person for it and I try my best to hide it. 

At some point Josh stirs and stretches, then falls back asleep. Other than that it is just me and my music and my thoughts until Josh wakes up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if i write neurotypical characters bad i am suffering im sorry. so josh has a crush on tyler now and tyler is having feelings he doesnt really understand abt josh yay


	6. Chapter 6

[TYLER POV]

This is the sixth night in a row I’ve slept in Josh’s bed. I wonder if he’s feeling okay. I wonder if he’s worried about me or something. I haven’t been acting any weirder than usual, have I? I can never tell. 

Tonight, Josh has fallen asleep with his hand on my waist. At first, it made me feel like I was going to die, but after a while, I became used to it. I’m not panicking anymore at least. I rub my face, which is getting scruffy. I’ve been too busy to shave. I got a job after about three weeks of living here and when I’m not working I’m busy laying down and trying to convince myself not to quit. I started smoking more than usual.

I get paid every other Friday and I give Josh all of it even though he smiles and tells me I don’t need to ever time. I always just end up leaving it on his desk. That way he can buy groceries or something. I don’t really do anything, that includes eating, so I don’t cost a lot of money. At this point, if Josh wanted another roommate they could just move into the second bedroom. Some of my stuff is in it, I moved it out of my parent's house a while ago, but I’ve been sleeping in Josh’s room a lot lately. 

And hanging out in here.

I turn over and look at Josh, picking up his hand and moving it from my hip to my stomach. He stirs a little and I pretend to be asleep. Even though I intended on waking him up to talk to him, I didn’t expect to do it so soon and now I’m anxious. 

I’m good at pretending to be asleep because I used to do it a lot at home to escape family time. When they started waking me up to be around them I started taking long walks. They followed me once in their car, but after that, they left me alone.

Josh catches me off guard by pulling me tight into his arms and pressing his face into my neck. I decide to be awake now. “Josh,” I whisper.

“Mmm,” he grumbles in response.

“Why do you want me to sleep in here all the time?” I ask very quietly, afraid he might get angry at the question. 

He’s quiet for a really long time, just holding me to his chest. I have a feeling I know what’s on his mind, and I am terrified. 

“Because,” he says, his voice full of sleep, “I like you.”

I once read somewhere that people are more honest when they’re tired. I wonder if Josh is being honest with me right now. Maybe this is some sort of prank. My heart is racing and I can’t feel my hands. “How much?”

He’s quiet for a moment again, then he speaks, “Probably more than you think I should.”

I don’t know what that means. I don’t think anyone should like me at all. I put my hand on his chest and close my eyes. “Josh, I can’t-” Josh cuts me off.

“I’m not going to try to make you do anything,” he says, “I get it.”

The way he says ‘I get it’ sounds so sincere, but the phrase has been used as a sort of passive-aggressive way to make me feel guilty by my parents. I all of a sudden feel the need to justify myself, just in case Josh hates me. “No, I mean, there’s something wrong with me, I can’t do that to you.” 

Here in his arms, I think about what it would be like to date him. Would he hold me like this every night? Would he let me be alone sometimes? Would things be different?

Josh sighs, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it.”

I know he wants to ask me, but he knows he can’t ask me. But I do want to talk tonight. It’s his lucky day. “I have things wrong in my brain,” I say, “I- it’s different up there. I’m-” I don’t want to say it out loud, now terrified of not having him. I grab onto his shirt tightly and press my forehead to his chest. Josh’s arms tighten around me and it makes me relax a little. I close my eyes tight.

“Josh, I’m schizophrenic.”

Silence. I continue, “It’s the reason I stopped going to school. It starts developing in early adulthood and I guess I was a little older than all the other kids so it makes sense… I just, I get so bad sometimes. It’s so hard to deal with- I can’t sometimes. I can’t do it,”I say. My eyes start filling with tears, “There’s a lot of stuff that comes with it- anxiety, depression, insomnia...”

I’m scared Josh isn’t going to want to be around me anymore and I’m going to be alone or have to move back in with my parents. The longer he’s quiet the harder I cry, but then he squeezes me tight and kisses my jaw gently. 

“That doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

I let out a sigh of relief and try to contain myself, but I’m still a shaking mess. I’m crying because I’m relieved that he still likes me even though my head doesn’t work. I rest against Josh’s chest as he pets my hair and tells me it’s okay. I’ve been so afraid for so long that no one would like me because of this, but I don’t have to be afraid anymore. Josh likes me. 

After a while, Josh pulls away and touches my cheek. He traces the scars I left on my cheek about a month ago and smiles at me, “Tyler I didn’t get a crush on you because I thought your head worked perfectly. I like you for who you are.”

That makes me smile and I’m pretty sure I feel my cheeks heat up. I hide from his gaze and he doesn’t try to make me look at him, he just waits until I shyly make eye contact again. “Thanks,” I peep out. He just smiles.

After a while, he lays on his back and stares at the ceiling. I move up to his side and curl up with him, not wanting to be too far away from his love and warmth. I feel like he’s going to fly off the face of the earth if I don’t hold onto him. I feel like he’s going to leave. I don’t want my boy to leave. 

He places a arm around my shoulders and is soon asleep. I listen to the sound of his breathing and the beat of his heart until they both lull me off to sleep. 

.

[JOSH POV]

Tyler and I aren’t dating, but he comes to me every day before work for a hug and a kiss on the forehead. I gave him a kiss once because I was feeling spontaneous, and when I didn’t do it the next day Tyler asked if I still liked him. I think he has some trust problems. Tyler called off of work today because he’s having an especially bad time. Right now we’re cuddling on the couch watching movies to try to keep his mind off of everything.

He’s holding onto my shirt tightly, pressing half his face into my chest. “Josh?”

“Yeah, Ty?”

“Can you lay on top of me?”

“Sure.”

We switch positions. I don’t put my full weight on him, but enough to have a comfortable amount of pressure. Tyler hides his face against my shoulder, arms around my neck. I’m between his legs. The position is really fucking suggestive. For a second I let my mind wander. His teeth in my neck, my hands… No! I curse myself for thinking of that. I don’t even know if Tyler wants to do any of that. 

My mind keeps wandering back to what it would be like to be with Tyler like that, and I’m angry at myself. Tyler squirms against me to move up and get a breath of fresh air, resting his cheek on my cheek. He’s so cute. I want to kiss him.

[TYLER POV]

I like when Josh lays on top of me. It makes everything stop for a second. It’s just him and me. “Josh,” I whisper into his ear. He turns and presses his nose to my cheek, “What?”

“Thank you,” I say, turning to face him. He smiles at me.

And then his lips are on mine. 

I haven’t kissed anyone in so long. I kiss back for a few moments, feeling like my heart is going to burst with this warm fizzy feeling. Then I realize what I’m doing and pull away, hiding my face from his. I still feel like Josh isn’t ready to deal with all of me. I feel like he won’t be able to handle it and he’ll leave me.

I want to kiss him so bad I want to rip my hair out. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I want to cry. I want to be normal so I can be good for Josh. I want to be good enough for him. For anyone. I want to have a lifetime with him but I can’t because I’m going to end up killing myself. That’s what we all do. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Josh started cooing to me gently, telling me it’s okay. He tells me one thing that gives me a sharp and sudden feeling I don’t understand.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, baby.”

It makes my eyes fall closed and I sink into his arms. The sharp feeling turns to a fading ache as Josh holds me. I shake my head though, letting him know there will be no more of that. Then I wiggle out from under him and lock myself in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror.

I look so different from what I did in high school. I’ve lost weight. Hair. My smile. The life in my eyes. I have sunken cheeks and deep bags under my eyes. My mouth is in a frown and my eyes are stormy. I lost my friends, my hopes and dreams. I lost my parents. I lost everything. And I can’t even have Josh because I know he won’t be able to handle it. 

I give myself a dead look in the mirror, speaking to the monsters in my brain, “Haven’t you taken enough from me?”

I slump against the wall and sit on the ground in front of the sink, resting my head on my knees and closing my eyes. I don’t cry or shake anymore, though I want to. 

Maybe I should date Josh. Just to show him how bad I am at being with people. I don’t deserve love and he’ll see that. But I don’t want him to end up hating me. I hit my head on the wall a couple of times before there’s a knock at the door. I scoot away and let Josh in with a sigh. He immediately looks me over for any new cuts or bruises. There are none. He sits cross-legged next to me and stares at the ground.

“Sorry,” he says softly.

I shake my head, “It’s not you. You’re doing everything right.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You know the problem, Josh,” I say a little too harshly. I quiet my voice and continue, “I’m not made to be loved. I’m made to be locked away.”

His hand is on my knee now, “No you’re not, Tyler. You’re a person and you deserve everything anyone else can get. I promise if you give yourself a chance you won’t regret it. I’ll be good to you.”

I frown and stare at the ground, “I’m not ready yet.”

[JOSH POV]

Isn’t he ready yet? He’s been alone for years now, locked away in his room. I scoot forward and place a kiss on his temple, “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. I’m going to show you what it’s like.”

“‘It?’” He asks.

“Being really alive, Tyler. Taking things you want even though you think you don’t deserve them.” Tyler has been a ghost for too long, he’s starting to be comfortable having no face. No name. Nothing. Tyler recedes into himself, sulking. 

“Not yet. I want to be dead a bit longer,” his words are full of defeat. I don’t think he trusts that he can be happy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bich u thought
> 
> im not done being emo so theyre not together yet


	7. Chapter 7

[TYLER POV]

I can’t get better. I know it. It’s always going to be there. I’m always going to have this dark inside of me no matter how hard I try to hide it. You can’t cure me, just treat me until I get tired of it. Not even a team of medical professionals can get me to eat or sleep or drink water or take my meds. No one can help me.

I wallow in my own fears and truths quietly. My chest hurts. I’m feeling rather grey-blue today. On the verge of numb, but on the verge of soul crushing sadness. I don’t want to move because I don’t want to leave this emotional state. I am too afraid to recover. I thrive in my own discomfort and unhappiness at this point of my life.

Sure, that’s ‘no way to live,’ as Josh puts it. But. But I don’t know. There’s something wrong with me, I just can’t do it. I tried, really I did. I’m trying now. I have a job, I shower and brush my teeth every day I can remember to because I don’t want to be gross at work. 

Fuck, I hate just sitting and thinking. I want it to end. I wish my brain would turn off for two seconds. I have this monster in my head who spits rapid fire words directly into my ears sometimes, just suffocating me with sound.

Can’t focus.

Can’t move.

Can’t see.

Can’t breathe.

I never know how long I sit places because I cannot keep track of time for the life of me. I never know the date, I never know the day of the week, I never know the time. Except Sundays. 

I know Sundays because those are my drowning days. The days where the depression hangs around your head like thick black smoke, choking you and burning your eyes. Church makes it worse. Nothing makes it better.

I think about my mother and the fact that I haven’t texted her back for a week. Josh says it’s fine because she really doesn’t deserve a response, but I feel like I’ve betrayed some sort of trust we had. Even though I never trusted her. 

I just want her to love me. I would do anything for her to love me like she used to when I was small. Before my head went bad, like old milk. Before I started poisoning everyone around me with my sadness. Before I poisoned myself and began to vomit out a sick sort of homewrecking radiation. I ruin everything. I ruin everything. I ruin everything. 

I am craving my father’s harsh touch. I feel like I need someone to beat me up. I feel like I need to be yelled at and tortured. I don’t understand, I thought I would be happy being out of his reach but… I find myself digging my nails into my own skin, craving the twisted affection I am most comfortable with. I contemplate calling him and telling him Josh’s address so he can come and beat the life out of me for leaving the way I did. 

Maybe he’d really kill me this time.

I stand and move to the door to the balcony. I unlock it and step outside, breathing in the fresh air as I fish my cigarettes out of my pocket. I stare down at the ground as I smoke. We’re only on the third floor. I wouldn’t die. 

[JOSH POV]

Work was easy today, I come home still full of energy. I look around for Tyler and find him on the porch, a place he frequents. I think he likes being outside without risking anyone looking at him. I go and get changed into some more comfortable clothing and when I’m back out in the kitchen looking at the fridge, Tyler enters again. “Hey there sweet boy,” I say lovingly. I’ve been more affectionate with him lately and he hasn’t been fighting it. I feel like I’m making some sort of progress with him.

He gives me a forced smile and a small greeting before he goes back to skulking around the house. He’s been like this for days. I walk over to him and offer him a cheese stick. He takes it and holds it in his hand, staring at it blankly. He hands it back to me after a second and stuffs his hands in his pockets, “Can I have a hug please?” He asks it so shyly.

I beam at him and wrap him tightly in my arms, I love it when he asks me for attention. I feel his nose press into my neck as his hands fall around my shoulders. At one point he presses his nose into my scalp and inhales deeply. He breaks away much too soon and cautiously looks at me, like he’s afraid something is going to jump out and scare him, “Josh, I gotta… Can you,” He pauses and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, “I have a lot of stuff I wanna talk about.”

Finally, I think, he’s going to open up to me! I get a little too excited and try to contain myself, “Yeah, of course, Ty.”

Tyler takes my hand and guides me to the couch, sitting down and instructing me to do the same. Then it’s like someone opened the floodgates and all of a sudden he’s talking so fast about his whole life and exactly how he feels about all of it. He has such deep and obscure thoughts, they get dark. He talks about the intrusive thoughts, someone named Blurryface who lives in his head, how his father hit him frequently. He says his brain made him lock himself in his room and waste away. 

He talks about how he can feel colors racing through his body and the textures of the emotions he’s having. He talks about the effect it has on his mood and how he can’t help but be sad. 

And then he starts talking about why he can’t be with me. “I’m just going to bring you down, Josh. I’m going to ruin you. I ruin everything. I can’t be happy and it makes everyone around me sad. I can’t give you a long and meaningful relationship ‘cause I’m gonna kill myself eventually. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, “I’m not going to let you do that, Ty.”

He gives a laugh, “We all do it.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” I ask.

“All the schizophrenics. We all die.”

I shake my head and tell him that’s not true. People who refuse help die, but those who work on getting better can. He’s just quiet. 

I begin to tell him about all of the good things about them. When he smiles it lights up the whole apartment, I could listen to his laugh for hours. He’s sweet and considerate. He’s empathetic and understanding. He’s always trying his best even if he doesn’t feel like it. I tell him he’s not worthless, that he means so much to me and that he’s not simply ‘good enough,’ he’s more than enough.

He nods quietly and stands from the couch, going to the bathroom and locking himself in it. He does that a lot when he doesn’t want to continue the conversation anymore. I’m so worried about him. He’s drowning in his own thoughts, but he won’t listen to me trying to help him. I want to save him from himself.

[TYLER POV]

I’m a bad, stupid, ugly, worthless person. Horrible, horrible, horrible. I hate myself. If I had the courage to kill myself right now I would. 

I know Josh is trying to help but I’m too stubborn and set in my own ways to change, aren’t I? I’ll never get better and it’s my own fault. I’ll never be enough for anyone because I don’t try hard enough. I need to try harder, but I’m so tired. I can’t do it. I can’t do anything. I mess everything up.

I’ve been sitting in the bathroom for an hour now because I’m too afraid to come out and face Josh. He’s too nice to me. I’m afraid my sadness is going to test his patience and he will snap at me. I want to smell his hair. I walk out of the bathroom and search the apartment for him. He isn’t there. Where did he go? 

Fuck, no this is because of me, isn’t it? I drove him away finally. He’s done trying with me and has left me alone. 

If that’s what I wanted why does it make me feel so bad?

Why am I so anxious about losing someone when I did it on purpose?

I begin to pace around the house. Should I text him? No, leave him alone. I don’t want to annoy him if he needs a break from me. I lay on the ground in the living room and let myself spiral out of control for a while. But the front door opens and in comes Josh with groceries. He looks at me and I look at him from my curled up position on the ground. I say hi.

He says it back and goes to the kitchen.

My brain is screaming because he didn’t come hug me before he went to the kitchen. I try to tell myself that it’s just because his arms are full of groceries, but irrational me is too loud. I am convinced I messed up with Josh today by telling him too much then running away. I feel like I’ve told him too much and now I can never speak to him again. Josh comes back into the living room and sits next to me on the ground. He starts rubbing my back.

“I brought you some comfort food,” He says. I turn and look at him. He has my favorite comfort food, those chewy sweet tarts. I sit up and thank him for them, taking them and putting them in my jacket. We sit together in silence for a while. 

“Tyler,” he says. He sounds serious. I’m scared. He’s touching my face and I can tell he’s trying to make eye contact. I refuse to hold up my end, opting instead to stare at the ground. He says, “I know you don’t believe me, but you’re going to get better. I’m going to make sure of it. Okay?”

I nod. I don’t believe him. I play with the bag of candy in my pocket, and for some reason it makes me want to cry. No one’s remembered my candy for me before, and certainly, no one has ever taken the time to go out and get me anything when I’m having an episode.

He leans forward and places a little kiss on my cheek. I lean forward and plant a kiss directly on his lips. 

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to throw and break things. I want to hurt myself. I want to hide forever in the woods. I want to die. I know I can’t get better and I know he can’t save me but maybe he can cushion the sharp edges of life. Maybe he can distract me from my bad thoughts. Maybe he can be the start of the good things in my life. I don’t want to force myself to be alone anymore. I can’t be alone anymore.

I pull away for a second only to go back in and press my lips to his harder this time. He doesn’t move to kiss me back so I pull away to make sure I haven’t done anything wrong. He has a blank look that all of a sudden erupts into one of his famous Josh Dun smiles. 

“Josh, I’m not ready, but I’m ready,” I say, “Show me how to be alive, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter but whomp there it is!!!! 
> 
> on that note im off to bed, also if anyone wants to be friends lmk


	8. Chapter 7

[TYLER POV]

I feel this unnatural anxiety run through my body as Josh pulls me into the movie theater. A dark room full of people on a huge screen with loud noises. Great. Exactly what I love. 

It seems like forever before we get to our seats and are sitting down. I felt like everyone was staring at me while we were walking around. I hate it. It makes me forget how to breathe and walk at the same time. Josh didn’t seem to mind at all, which made me even more anxious. How’s he just so fine with everything? It’s like he doesn’t care what people think of him. 

Once we are in our seats I cuddle up close to him and brace myself for the next couple of hours. All in all the movie wasn’t bad, but there were times I had to plug my ears. 

Josh held me close whenever I got overwhelmed. 

After the movie, we got fast food. The plan was a restaurant, but I was still anxious from the movie theater. I couldn’t handle going inside another public place. I felt bad, but Josh didn’t seem to mind. We get home and eat our food at the table quietly. I’m trying to get my mind to stop racing and racing and racing. 

I eat half my food and shyly say, “I’m done,” to Josh. I’m afraid he’ll be mad at me for not eating all of it, but he isn’t. He puts everything away and pulls me onto the couch with him quietly. The couch is our talking spot. Well, my talking spot. Whenever I’m having a hard time Josh closes all the blinds and lays with me on the couch until I feel like talking about it.

I lay silently for about twenty minutes before I say anything. “I’m sorry,” I start out, “I’ve just been really anxious today. All week, really. I just feel like being quiet and thinking a lot. Too much.” 

I press my nose into his chest and he pets my hair. “You don’t need to be sorry,” Josh says soothingly, “I’m just worried you’re not talking about something that’s wrong.”

I bite my lip, “Well…”

“Well, what?” Josh inquires.

I sigh and sit up, Josh sits up next to me and rests his hand on top of mine. “I’m worried you’ll, I don’t know, get upset if I bring it up or something.”

Josh shakes his head and nudges my jaw with his knuckles, “Not a chance.”

I smile weakly and take a deep breath, “Are you-- do you um-? Do you want to have sex with me? Not like, right now, just eventually.” I don’t give Josh time to respond before I justify my question, “It’s just that I think a lot of people wouldn’t want to with someone like me, I don’t know they see us as different. Helpless or something? I can assure you I know what it is and what’s going on and-”

Josh cuts me off by putting his index finger on the tip of my nose, “Yes, Tyler.”

I get really embarrassed and start to blush, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to, though,” he replies.

.

It’s been a few weeks since I popped that question. We still haven’t done anything more than cuddling and some light kissing. I get too anxious to do anything more than kiss him. It might be my low self esteem. I don’t know.

Whenever Josh wants to go further- maybe I notice him pushing himself on me a little more or he’s kissing a little harder- I get nervous and shut it all down. I’m afraid that Josh will take off my clothes and laugh at me for being ugly. I might mess everything up somehow. I might need to stop for some reason. 

Today Josh and I are cuddling in bed after a shower. I had a bad shift at work today an spilled coffee all over myself. Josh insisted he helped me clean up, so we both hopped in the shower together. It was the first time I’ve ever been completely naked with Josh. I was flustered the whole time and it got worse when Josh started helping me wash myself. He got the liquid body wash on his hands and was rubbing it all over me.

When he got to my bum he just stopped there and giggled at me. I didn’t mind being touched like that, really. I leaned in and we kissed for the longest time yet. Everything was so overwhelming, the steam, the water, the soap, Josh’s lips, his hands. I kept it together though. 

My hair is still wet as I lay my head on my pillow and tange my legs with Josh’s. We’re still naked. I have this warm feeling of excitement and anxiety in my stomach.

“C’mere,” Josh says, pulling me closer to him by the hips. I love this feeling, being clean with someone. We start to kiss again, but this time Josh’s body is pressed up closer to mine. He pushes me on my back and gets between my legs, mouth still on mine. Fuck. 

Josh pulls back and looks down at me. For a moment I study the patterns tracing all across his skin and in his hair. They make him look like a painting. A work of art. “Tyler,” Josh says softly.

I close my eyes and smile, “What?”

“You’re so pretty. I love your face,” he says. 

I want to hide from Josh. I want to hide my face and drown. I get so weird about compliments. I peep out a small, “Thank you.”

I reach up and wrap my arms around him, pulling him down close to me for a tight hug. We’re completely pressing together and his warm breath is hitting my neck. I haven’t been touched by anyone in so long. It’s so much. Josh starts kissing my neck.

At first, I was confused. I haven’t really been exposed to people in relationships. At least, not this part of the relationship. I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to anything beyond cuddling and soft kisses. The lips on my neck feel so good, though. I wasn’t expecting it.

I toss my head to the side and loosen my grip on him so that he can kiss more places. I didn’t notice my breath picking up in speed. Josh kisses a trail from my collarbone up to my ear, where he begins to nibble and kiss. I’m even more surprised by how good that feels.

It gets to the point where I’m gasping and gripping onto Josh so tight my hands shake. I’m so touch deprived. I can barely handle making out. I would be embarrassed about getting hard, but Josh is too. I can feel him rubbing up against me. I push Josh away for a second, trying to catch my breath.

“You okay?” He asks.

I nod and close my eyes, resting below him quietly.

[JOSH POV]

Tyler is horribly flustered. That was kind of the goal, though, so I’m glad. I’ve talked to Tyler about previous relationships, romantic or otherwise. Apparently, he’s just been by himself in his room for the majority of the time since he stopped talking to everyone. It’s been years. So many years that he’s just spent alone.

Because he’s used to being by himself, Tyler doesn’t really like loud noises, bright lights, fast travelling objects, things that are too hot or too cold, ect.

He’s just sensitive. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with him, but not because he gets angry or anything. He just gets really sad and scared. 

When Tyler opens his eyes again, he’s giving me a nervous look. 

“What’s up, baby?” I ask softly.

“Um,” he starts off, the hard blush still hasn’t left his face, “Can we um, do stuff but not- not all the way?”

I smile down at him, “Yeah, that sounds good to me.” I try to remember to always smile when I’m talking to Tyler, he gets worried I’m unhappy when I don’t. Plus, he’s less likely to get anxious if he sees me happy and collected. He smiles back thankfully and wiggles a little. I didn’t know what he was doing until I felt a hand wrap around my cock.

I gasp in surprise and Tyler gives me an “is this okay” look. I lean down and kiss his cheek sweetly, “Go for it,” I tell him.

Tyler plays around with me for a while, rubbing his fingers and palm in all the right places. I feel his lips reach up and meet my neck. Tyler isn’t very good at kissing, but I find it adorable. I find everything about him adorable. 

I orgasm fairly quickly, mostly for Tyler. I’m trying my best to make things easy for him. After I do, I begin to kiss down Tyler’s chest, to his stomach. I didn’t want to ask him to attempt to use his mouth, but I enjoy using mine. I tease him, kissing his inner thighs until he’s wiggling and making cute little noises. 

I grab him in my hand and carefully wrap my mouth around the head. I’m rewarded with a gasp from Tyler. When I swirl my tongue around the tip and begin to move my head, Tyler begins making a ton of noise. I’m gentle and slow, but still. He’s new to this.

Tyler gets louder as he begins to squirm and pant under me, “Oh, Josh,” he says, “Please!” I can tell he’s getting close because his hands are tangled in my hair and he’s obviously trying to quiet himself. It’s so cute to feel him shaking below me and hear him gasping and panting. 

“Ah, I-” Is all he gets out before he’s off in the back of my mouth. I swallow what I can because I’m not a quitter and wipe my mouth. I sit up, Tyler is just laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. His legs are still shaking a little.

“That was a lot,” he says between breaths.

I laugh, “You were getting a bit loud there.”

He looks at me for a second, then away, “Well I barely ever even touch myself anyway, so I’m not used to it.”

I just smile and lay next to him, gathering his bony figure in my arms and shoving my face into his shoulder. I love this boy. 

[TYLER POV]

Before that, I can’t really recall the last time I orgasmed. Maybe a couple weeks ago? When I started getting bad I stopped really feeling sexual urges. I mostly just felt the need to isolate. I don’t generally want anyone to touch me. Josh is different though, he’s nice. I trust him not to hurt me. I feel him breathing against my skin and relax a little.

It’s funny, I only really touch myself when I wake up with a problem because I hate the thought of touching myself. But when Josh does it, I just want more.

I’ll have to restrain myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is a really bad filler chapter and also that it took me so long to post. ive been in a bad place for the past week or two and it keeps getting worse. ill update as much as i can


	9. Chapter 9

[JOSH POV]

I’ve gotten Tyler to take his medication for five weeks straight now. It’s so great, watching him transform from this weak, paranoid child to something that resembles his old self. He’s happier now, smiling and laughing more often. We kiss a lot and Tyler is more comfortable with cuddling. And making out. And sex. 

He hasn’t cut in two weeks and is taking more showers recently. He seems to be less confused all the time. I love him, I love him so much. 

I feel so warm when I think about how good he is doing. I’m so proud of my adorable boyfriend. He’s finally fighting his mind. He’s finally coming alive. And he’s letting me help him. 

[TYLER POV]

I feel a lot better recently. I think I’m starting to like myself too. Josh loves me so much, and he’s told me every day for the past week. 

I was the first one to say it, sleepy and close to him in bed. We were pressed up to each other and kissing and it slipped out between my lips. I was embarrassed, but Josh said it back a couple days later. 

All we do is love each other and work. Sometimes I don’t see him until 9pm and I get so lonely. That’s when i start to get deep murky brown, when he’s not here to distract me. 

I walk up to my lovely boyfriend and give him a kiss right on the lips. A really passionate one. 

I need him. 

“I love you, Ty,” he says against my lips. I pull back smiling and hide my face in his shoulder. “I love you too,” I peep out. 

I think, one day, I’m going to marry this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i am dying inside!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all thanks for reading!  
> The mental illness Ty is suffering with is heavily based off of the one I am having troubles with so this is a pretty personal fic and is really just a way for me to vent. 
> 
> Edit: thank you all for the kudos & supportive comments you guys are great!


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